


Curious Place, Curiouser People

by scathach124



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Adventure, Anthropomorphic, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Violence, Whimsy, Wonderland, multiple characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scathach124/pseuds/scathach124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sybil is faced with an inescapable marriage with a despicable man. But when she finds herself traveling down a rabbit hole and into a bizarre world, she decides to set off on a journey where she'll meet strange and charismatic beings - and encounter danger at every turn. Alice in Wonderland-style AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net.

"Must I really go?" sighed Sybil. "I doubt it will make a difference if I'm there."

"Mama will notice," said Mary, adjusting her necklace. "And you know how Papa is insistent about these things. They've been planning this party for months."

Sybil grumbled. She did not care for such things as garden parties or mingling or dresses. But that was her life, unfortunately for her. And Mary was right; Mama would smoke at the ears if she found Sybil wasn't where she was supposed to be. She turned to her sister and smoothed her dress. "Do I look alright?"

Mary looked her over with a critical eye. "Yes, you will, if you just ..." She reached out to fix a crease on Sybil's skirt and frowned.

"Where's your corset?" she asked.

Sybil glanced to the closet door. Mary was all but panicked.

"Sybil, are you wearing any stockings?" she asked exasperatedly.

"I'm against them," Sybil said simply. Mary looked as if her youngest sister had just said she was a boy - and proved it.

"You aren't properly dressed," she stressed, as if that would convince Sybil.

"So?" Sybil asked. "It's not like someone is going to ask me what underclothes I'm wearing. And anyway, men don't wear corsets and they look perfectly normal."

Mary had never looked redder in the face.

They were already late as it were, and anyhow, Sybil was content going down without much underwear on. Mary was always in a sour mood, but seeing her sister wear nothing but her dress was unbearable. She might as well have been naked. Suddenly, Sybil giggled a bit at the thought of walking into a soiree without a dress and just her underclothes. Mary frowned sternly.

"Oh, heavens, for once try to behave," she said. "You'll never attract a decent husband that way."

But Sybil could not care less about finding a decent husband. There weren't any, as far as she could see, and there were too many men to count out here. Too many people in general were outside, all mingling, drinking, eating, dancing. Sybil knew a good amount of these guests, all too stiff and stuffy for her liking. She knew the haughty widow Lady Dodgson who was surrounded by a group of ladies that including her mother. Over there was Lord Carroll and his wife, talking to her father, and Sir Anthony Strallen conversing with – was that Edith? Good lord, Edith just had to get mixed up with the wrong men.

"Quite a turnout," Sybil muttered. She scanned the crowd for a servant whom she could chat with, but they were all busy handling trays of food and champagne glasses, and Mr Carson did not like a distracted servant, especially at an event such as this.

"Ah, look who it is," Mary said to Sybil beside her. She was pointing to a man who wore a finely tailored suit and a sneer. To Sybil's horror and disgust, it was Larry Grey walking towards her.

"Lady Sybil," he said in a voice that would have been more appropriate in addressing a major general. Sybil responded in a similar tone, but saying the name made her tongue feel like thick chowder. She detested Larry Grey, the obnoxious son of Lord Merton and the little boy who followed her around and tore the wings off beetles. She hadn't seen him for about four glorious months. Her family was clearly trying to get her to be friendly with him, but she'd sooner marry a hairless cat than exchange pleasantries with him.

But one minute later, Sybil found herself dancing with Larry Grey. Dancing, of all the horrid things! She would rather push needles up into the soles of her shoes and walk around the whole of England. She wasn't terribly comfortable with the dance either and stumbled a little. Larry Grey noticed and looked down at her with disapproval. She didn't like that stare one bit, and tried to look at everything except him. But all the bright colors swirling around her made her head swim, and her dance partner emitted a smell like pepper.

"I apologize, good madam, Lady Sybil is distracted," she heard Larry Grey said. Sybil blushed; she must have stepped on some woman's foot. God, she was as good at dancing as a dog. Suddenly, she was seized with something absolutely hilarious, and she smiled oddly, trying not to let her smirk be noticed. She thought about her father's dog Pharaoh, a golden retriever who, in Sybil's opinion, would be a much better dance partner.

"Where is your head today?" Larry Grey was talking to her now. "You are acting quite queer now."

Good god, can't he speak normally? "I'm sorry. I was just wondering ... " Sybil wondered why in the world she was making a conversation with Larry Grey. "It's just that I was wondering what it would be like if we were all like animals, dancing on our hind legs."

However, Larry Grey was the opposite of amused. "It would be best you don't repeat that to anyone else. Think before you speak aloud, my father always said."

Sybil scowled. "I ...!"

"M'lady, I politely request that we reconvene under the trellis in precisely ten minutes." Larry Grey gave her a short nod just as the band concluded the waltz and strutted off.

Sybil hurried off of the dance patio, wringing her hands into a fist.

"Oh Sybil, first no corset or stockings, then you try to wrinkle your gloves." Mary walked up behind her, holding a glass of champagne.

"Do you think I care about that?" Sybil thought Mary was sounding a lot like Larry Grey. They could be brother and sister if Sybil didn't know any better.

"Well, Larry Grey won't like it much," Mary said.

Sybil was about to burst, but she could imaging Mary saying it might not be ladylike to do so. "What does it matter what he thinks?"

"It will matter when ..." Mary suddenly stopped, smiled, and sipped her champagne nonchalantly.

"What?" Sybil saw the glint in Mary's eye that always told her she was thinking more than she was saying. "You have to tell me, why does it matter?"

Mary laughed. "Sybil, I thought you would have realized by now what this is all for. This is your engagement party."

Sybil nearly vomited. "No, oh God, no, not to him!"

Mary was trying not to laugh to hard. "Did you really not see? How could you not get it? It's all for you. This party that's been planned for at least two years."

She stepped closer to the distraught Sybil. "You know how rich Larry Grey is, how powerful his father is. Merton Manor will be a wonderful home. You need not act as if this is the end of the world."

For Sybil, it was worse than if the flowers had gone up in flames just now. Marry Larry Grey? Live in that bleak manor with him? It must be a joke these people wanted to torment her with.

"Does everybody know?" she asked. Mary laughed again. "Of course. We've all gone through so much to keep it a secret until today. The Lutwidge girls were beside themselves with jealousy when they heard of your betrothal."

She whispered to Mary, "But Larry Grey is a sick-minded boy and I will never accept his proposal. I'd sooner take up chimney sweeping than marry him!" She had to keep from imagining their wedding night, or she might toss up her breakfast.

Mary was frowning. "I'm afraid you don't have time to talk to Carson about a position. And like it or not you are already betrothed. It's just a little show they want everybody to see." She paused. "You've got maybe seven minutes before you have to meet under the rose trellis."

Sybil looked over at the trellis covered in white roses. In seven minutes Larry Grey would be taking her hand in his and asking him to marry him for etiquette's sake, to put on a show that everyone here wanted to see. "I don't believe it."

"I don't either," Mary said, looking over at the large trellis. "Why are the roses white? I know Mama asked for red."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "You could paint them red if it's so important to you," she rebuffed.

Mary glared at Sybil through the corner of her eye. "You do realize he hates it when you say what you think. I can't stand it myself. You'll find it will be easier to get along with him if you say what he want to hear, and say nothing unless he asks you. In fact ..."

Sybil turned away, hearing but not listening to Mary's lecture. There was a faint ticking noise in her other ear, and she rubbed it, to no avail. It was irritating her, more irritating than hearing Mary's blather.

And then she saw it, something that was so queer she wondered what was in the champagne. Right beside the rose trellis was a snow-white rabbit with blue eyes, a cream colored waistcoat and jacket, and a pocket watch.

Sybil blinked several times, but not only was the white rabbit there, it was moving! Yes, looking at the pocket watch like a person, tapping on it a few times, and looking about at the party.

Then it looked at her, pointed to the pocket watch, and hopped off.

Sybil was going mad. It must be the heat, she thought, because there was no way that rabbits wore clothing and pocket watches. But that annoying ticking noise in her ear had stopped.

"Sybil? What are you looking at?" Mary asked, her voice suddenly very loud.

"I thought I just saw ... did you see a rabbit over there? Just now?"

"No." Mary craned her neck to see if it was still there, but it had since disappeared into the bushes and Sybil could no longer see it.

"Oh." Sybil had thought about how nice it would be to see the rabbit up close. To tell the truth, she had felt more excitement seeing the rabbit than attending the party. But it was just her mind playing tricks with her.

She wished it was still her imagination when she and Larry Grey stood underneath the rose trellis together, the entire party, guests and staff, staring at the couple. Her family, the servants, her cousin Matthew and his mother, Larry Grey's abominable relations, and perhaps the whole of Yorkshire were watching the supposedly romantic scene. Yet when Larry Grey bent to one knee and took her hands in his, Sybil felt this was more of a horror story than a romantic fairy-tale.

"Lady Sybil Crawley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Sybil had spent the last few minutes wondering about the rabbit with the pocket watch, so she had no idea how to react. Her mind was swimming with worry. She knew the silence was supposed to be filled by her acceptance, but she could not help but hope that she'd think of some way to save herself.

I have to say yes - everyone expects me to.

And they're all right - Larry Grey is wealthy with a big house. I'll be comfortable and rich too.

But will I really be happy?

If being happy meant spending the rest of her life with Larry Grey, then she'd give that up.

The congregation was watching her with anticipation. Mary and Edith were egging her on with their eyes, her mother and father were waiting with bated breath, Larry Grey's parents looked on the verge of screaming "just say yes!" Sybils scanned the crowd, looking any possible escape route.

For a moment she felt her heart stop. She thought she was seeing the rabbit again.

She really was loosing her head. But then, she heard the annoying ticking again.

"Lady Sybil!" Larry Grey hissed quietly. He was looking up at her, patience wearing thin. He most definitely wouldn't like what she had to say next.

"This is all happening so quickly," Sybil said softly. Her head was spinning, and she wondered if she might faint.

Tick, tick, tick, tick ...

"Excuse me, but I think I ... I need a moment."

She ran.

She ran far away from the party, from the rose trellis, through the gardens, past hundreds of white roses, following the ticking noise. It was getting very loud, practically ticking in her ear, but where was the rabbit?

There! It was running like it was being chased by a hound. Sybil saw it bound through the trees. It was still wearing the cream colored waistcoat and jacket. Why in the world was a rabbit wearing clothes? she wondered, but before she could think of a logical answer, she glimpsed as it rounded a large tree and disappeared.

She sighed, exhausted from her flight. She felt cool in the grove, away from the hot stare of the gathering. But she was deeply disappointed at not getting a better look at the funny rabbit. She went around the tree, hoping in vain that it might be hiding. It was no longer to be seen anywhere, though. It had vanished into thin air.

Well, at least she was far away from —

Her ankle turned on a crumbling patch of dirt, and her elbow scrapped the rough bark of the tree as she slipped down beneath the roots.

She was falling!

Sybil screamed as air rushed past her, tangling her hair and rustling her skirts. She was falling so fast and so far down, and above her she saw the blue sky become surrounded by the hole which she had just fallen through. But there light in this odd tunnel, in the walls around her, like lantern bugs.

As she fell she saw things rush past her. Things like tables, dolls, pictures, chairs, a piano, everything, all floating about her, rushing past her so fast that when she knocked her limbs against these objects it stung terribly. She tried to grab onto something, but her hands slipped with her gloves still on. It was like someone had taken the contents of her house and dumped them down the hole along with her. She fell past the antiques and they were all a blur as she felt herself falling faster.

What was happening to her?

She got a bad fright when she finally hit ground. It was hard like rock but smooth like polished marble. Her face felt bruised and so did the rest of her body. She lay on the floor, wondering what was going on?

Because seeing a rabbit in a waistcoat and falling down a rabbit hole past furniture and falling on a checkered floor most certainly merited insanity. It could not happen in reality.

Could it?


	2. The Jungle-Garden

When her head stopped throbbing, Sybil stood up, not bothering to first check for any broken bones. She was surprised she had none; she felt like she had fallen for miles, surely she should have broken all four limbs and her skull. But except for feeling somewhat dizzy and incredibly confused, Sybil was fine.

She looked upwards. She couldn't see the clear blue sky at all. The only light in the hole was the soft glowing candles which now looked liked fireflies in the distance.

"Well, bully for this," Sybil said out loud, although there was no one around to listen. "I've just be proposed to by Larry Grey, and I've fallen down a hole to ..." She drifted off, wondering where the dickens she was.

She looked around. She was standing at the end of a hall, one single long hall. The floor was like a chessboard, which Sybil first noticed when she had fallen. There was nothing else in the hall; not a door, not even a window. All Sybil was go down the hall and hope that there was something there.

So Sybil walked, slowly at first, listening for anything sign of life. She remembered the rabbit, and she was certain it had come down the same hole.

"Fancy a rabbit that likes to put books and chairs in his hole," Sybil said, again to no one in particular.

It was surprising for Sybil to realize that she wasn't really scared. Even though she was perhaps miles away from her family with no way of getting back to them in sight, she was just merely curious as to how she could be in this strange place. She started to think that she had fallen asleep in the forest and this was all just a dream. Yes, it can only be a dream ...

But what about the sound of the watch ticking, which she was certain she was hearing even now?

Sybil began to run faster as she caught a glimpse of a white tail.

"Wait!" she called. "Wait!"

She could see the whole rabbit now. Yes, it was still wearing the waistcoat. It was even listening to the ticking of the watch. But as soon as it saw Sybil approach it, it dove through a small doorway.

Sybil bent down to the small doorway. She could only just fit through it, but she could no longer see the rabbit. She couldn't even make out how long the tunnel went for.

She started to crawl into the hole. It was slow going from the start. Sybil's heavy skirts kept her from moving a few inches at a time, and pretty soon her back began to ache.

"What a day this is turning out to be!" she grumbled in the darkness. "This is just as bad as standing under that stupid trellis with that thick headed Larry Grey."

Her stomach growled loudly. "Wonderful, now I'm hungry."

"Stop dawdling and crawl faster!"

Sybil stopped and listened. She couldn't see anyone, still couldn't see the end of the tunnel. Perhaps it was the rabbit?

She shook her and kept on crawling. "Don't be silly, Sybil," she said to herself. "Even rabbits who wear waistcoats can't talk."

Even as she grunted and inched her way forward she realized that after everything she had seen so far there should be no reason rabbits couldn't talk.

"Will you hurry up? We're running very late, you know."

"Shut it!" Sybil shouted as she continued forward. She didn't care who or what was pushing her buttons, but it sounded a lot like Mary, and that was the last thing she needed.

It obviously wasn't Mary talking, no, it was a man's voice. Sybil envisioned a small man, not excelling at anything except working at a dingy office or waiting on some lord. She wondered who was waiting for her at the end of the tunnel.

"Where have you been? What are you doing?"

She realized, even though the tunnel ended five feet ago, that she was still on her hands and knees. And standing outside the exit was the white rabbit, tapping its watch.

"Where have you been?" It said again. Sybil frowned; the rabbit sounded very familiar.

"I - I," Sybil stammered.

"No time for that, we are rather late," the rabbit said, and hopped off down another long hall.

Sybil groaned; her back was aching terribly, and it felt stiff. She was glad she had decided to wear a corset; otherwise the pain would be unbearable. But she ignored the soreness in her back and the empty feeling in her stomach and followed the rabbit, who every now and then stopped to tap on his watch.

"Wait – what's going on? What are you late for?" Sybil called out.

"We are both very late, and if you don't hurry, oh, I'll be in such trouble," the rabbit said, whimpering slightly.

"Late? Late for what?" Sybil grumbled. If it was another stupid party, she was going home, no matter what she had to do.

"No time for that!" the rabbit stopped, and sniffed. "Here we are."

They had come to a circular room, still with the checkered floor, but now there was a door. A door that, thankfully, Sybil would be able to walk right through. The brass handle was low to the ground, the perfect height for the rabbit. It pulled a tiny key, the size of maybe half a finger, out of its pocket and turned it in the lock.

"Oh dear, I hope we have enough time," the rabbit muttered as it pulled the door open.

For a rabbit, he sure is obsessed with time, Sybil thought.

When the door swung open, Sybil's mouth dropped open. For just outside the hall was a garden, spread out farther than the eye could see. It wasn't like the boring gardens at her home at all. Her eyes bulged at all the color, at all the strangeness.

She did not notice that behind her, not a trace of the long hall remained. Only a door stood in the middle of a hill.

She went down the hill that the door had opened up to, and as she moved further into the garden her amazement grew. It was like a jungle, she thought. All of the flowers were larger, the trees taller, even the gigantic colorful mushrooms grew everywhere. There was so much red and green and blue and yellow and every colour Sybil knew the name of, plus strange swirls and patterns. The flowers were garish shades of pink and yellow and - oh my, Sybil thought. The flowers had faces. And it wasn't like they were carved or cut into the flowers. They were in fact moving, looking at her, and giving her a rather rude glare.

"Look at her, quite a small thing, isn't she?"

"I was expecting something prettier."

"Oh hush, she probably isn't the real Sybil anyway."

"But how many Sybils can there be to choose from?"

The conversing flowers sounded an awful lot like two of the maids at Downton. Sybil recognized the high nasally sound of some blonde maid and the funny cockney accent of whats-her-name. She scoffed at their talk.

"What do they mean the real Sybil? Talking flowers talking nonsense."

The garden was teeming with life and sounds. Flying above her was a tiny dragonfly (literally a dragon-fly, like a dragon with insect wings) and a larger horsefly (which looked like a rocking horse). The sky was a dark blue-grey, maybe threatening rain. It was dark and misty, but the lurid colours were bright like lightbulbs. The trees were rustling oddly shaped leaves, and even the toadstools were making odd ribbit sounds. It smelled like any other garden, but much stronger, and Sybil sneezed.

"Where are we going?" she asked as the rabbit turned a sharp corner.

"Hurry up now," it said once more, aggravating Sybil.

"Well, I never!" she huffed. "This is the most annoying rabbit I have ever met."

"Moseley? Where were you? We thought you got lost," said something up ahead.

"Me, lost? I - I don't know what you mean," the rabbit stuttered, looking around.

Moseley? Sybil squinted at the rabbit. Not like Mr Moseley, Matthew Crawley's butler? Her jaw dropped as she figured out that the rabbit had the same voice as the other Moseley, the human one.

"This is getting curiouser and curiouser," Sybil said aloud.

She went around a fruit tree that was sprouting oddly shaped apples and found herself standing in front of the oddest bunch of creatures, surrounded by a dozen flower-faces.

"Are you sure this is the right Sybil Crawley?" inquired a golden dog with messy fur.

"Well, I for one am not convinced," said the hound with long red fur standing next to the first dog.

"I've been up there for weeks trailing Sybil Crawley, and this is the gratitude I receive? I was almost eaten by her hunting hounds. Dreadful, baying dogs worse than our own. And I have this horrible rash from a rue hedge I ran through," complained Moseley the white rabbit. Sybil thought this was the weirdest thing that she had ever heard the nervous butler say.

"Oh hush, Moseley, no one wants to hear your rabble," interjected a sapphire hued rose. Moseley stamped impatiently on his rabbit feet and stood off to the side of the path.

"We must consult with Mr. Carson on the matter," said a large caracal that stood nearly up to Sybil's neck.

Sybil's head was spinning. There was a Carson in this world too? Who else from her household was she going to encounter in this bizarre place?

A dormouse stood behind the caracal, trembling. "I-I don't think we should bother Mr. Carson, especially if she isn't the real Sybil."

"Oh, hush Daisy," the large caracal shushed. "He'll be the judge of this matter."

"If it is the real Sybil then it is, and if it isn't then it isn't," the golden dog interjected.

"I'm not an 'it!'" shouted Sybil. They were all talking as if she wasn't standing right in front of them. The lot of them were talking just like her parents and her grandmother whenever they thought she wasn't listening.

"Who are you? Where's Carson?" she demanded. She wanted answers before she woke up from this perplexing dream.

The two dogs walked behind her and nudged her forward with their noses. The red dog sneezed. "Ugh. Mr Carson won't be pleased to be inter—"

Suddenly, Sybil gasped loudly as she recognized the voice of the red dog. "Gwen! Oh my gosh, Gwen, what's going on? Why are you a dog?"

The red dog looked at her queerly. "Well, I don't know why I'm a dog. I've always been a dog. Perhaps that's the way they'll always be."

Sybil looked down at the Gwen-dog as they followed the caracal. It sounded just like Gwen and talked in the same way, in the same defeatist manner that the housemaid spoke in when discussing her ambitions of being a secretary. Sybil sighed; she missed the real Gwen already.

"Come along now," the caracal prodded.

They're all as pushy as Moseley was in the hallway, thought Sybil.

The part journeyed farther into the jungle-like garden, the path becoming narrower and narrower. There weren't any more bright flowers, Sybil noted. It was getting darker in the sky, the hedges casting long shadows.

"We need to hurry," the caracal hissed. "It won't be safe in this garden soon."

Gwen, Moseley, and the yellow dog all shivered. Sybil looked at them in confusion.

"Wha-why? What's out there?"

"Nothing good, that's for certain," the yellow dog said.

Sybil opened her mouth to ask what exactly, but she was being herded into a small clearing. There were silver trinkets everywhere on the ground; spoons, platters, all shining in pristine condition. Around a tree large stump sat several dozen wine bottles, some of them open. They were labeled with peculiar names. Sybil could read one called Tumkinport.

"Mr. Carson?" the caracal said. "What are you doing?"

Over the top of the tree stump crawled the most brusque-looking caterpillar Sybil at ever seen. It was probably only three inches long, but it was very round and somewhat disagreeable to look at. It was a bright blue hue, and in one of its legs it held a pen.

"Mrs Hughes, I was certain we had six dozen left of the Felpilsharow from West Lagutrop, but I'm beggared if I can find more than four," the caterpillar spoke.

"Well, look again before you jump to any conclusions," the caracal - Mrs Hughes, as the caterpillar had called her - said, putting her paws on the tree stump where the caterpillar was making notes. "But never mind that now."

The caterpillar made one final scratch in the tree stump and peered at the group before him. Sybil felt very intimidated, which in itself was very off-putting since a tiny caterpillar shouldn't be very scary at all. But since it had Mr. Carson's voice it was no wonder everyone but Mrs Hughes looked a little low on confidence.

"Who are you?" Carson the caterpillar asked.

"I-I'm Sybil Crawley," Sybil stammered.

The caterpillar sniffed. "Come closer."

Hesitantly, Sybil stepped closer to the tree stump. It was almost as tall as her eyes, and Carson the caterpillar raised himself so they were looking each other square in the eye. Sybil glanced down quickly to see the wood of the tree carved like a record, the names of the drinks scratched into the surface. Carson looked at her, unimpressed.

"And you're sure she's the right Lady Sybil Crawley, Mr Moseley?" he said.

Moseley the white rabbit shifted uncertainly. "Well, yes. She wasn't hard to fi – I mean, she was there and – oh, dear ..."

Carson sighed. "Mr Moseley, are you suggesting something?"

"No! No! I mean, I beg your pardon Mr Carson," Moseley said hurriedly.

Carson sighed again. "She's not hardly Sybil. She's isn't Sybil, but she will be yet. For now, she's not hardly Sybil."

Sybil stared. "What? What do you mean. I am Sybil. I am Sybil right now!"

"You're not hardly Sybil, that I am sure of." Carson looked at the notes in the tree and made a quick line through one of the names.

Sybil could not be more confused. "What does that mean 'not hardly Sybil?'"

"Mrs Hughes, I don't entirely agree with this plan of action, however if this is what must be done, this is what must be done. Daisy?"

A little squeak came from a small patch of grass. Sybil noticed the timid dormouse from before emerge.

"Yes, Mr Carson?" it whimpered.

"Try to keep up with the rest of us," Mr Carson said shortly.

The dormouse named Daisy heaved a sigh of relief and sat down near a silver candlestick.

"Now Gwen, William, take the girl to the safe point. She's not hardly Sybil Crawley, but we can't wait around to have her pop up. You'll have to hurry before the queen's guards figure out she's here."

The yellow dog, William, shuddered. "But Mr Carson, we won't even make it to the Stangrove junction by then."

"Then I suggest you get a head start," Mr Carson said crossly.

The two dogs began nudging Sybil's legs again, urging her to start walking. "Wait!" she cried. "Where are we going? Who's the queen?"

No one said anything.

"Won't you answer me?" Sybil screeched.

"There's no time!" William and Gwen bayed.

"We'll explain everything later, once we get to Junderdee lane," William told her. "Right now, we need to get out of here!"

Sybil had no chance to ask another of the thousand or so questions that were spinning in her mind. The dogs began to trot faster, and Sybil struggled to keep up in the dress she was wearing. She was tired and hungry and confused, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep.

They seemed to be walking forever, but the jungle-garden showed no signs of ending. It was a long time before William put his nose to the ground and sniffed.

"Aren't we ever going to make it out of here?" Sybil whined. Her feet were stinging. She kicked her shoes off, abandoning them under a purple toadstool.

"We need to go!" William exclaimed. "The queen's guards are out!"

"What?" both Gwen and Sybil cried out.

Far away, Sybil could hear angry shouts and perhaps a sword or two being drawn.

"They know you're here," Gwen said to Sybil. "William, that nerdrink you buried must be somewhere around here."

"I dunno –"

"Then hurry up and find it! Or the Red Queen will have us on toast!"

Immediately, William began smelling a trail on the ground. Twenty feet away he stopped and dug ferociously into the ground. "Here it is! Nerdrink!"

The yellow dog trotted back to Sybil and Gwen. In its mouth was a small green bottle labeled 'Drink Me.'

"Hurry up!" Gwen said. One of her ears perked up. "They'll be on our trail any minute. If they go to Mr Carson he'll tell them where we've gone."

"Huh?" Sybil said, uncapping the small bottle. "I thought Mr Carson was on our side."

"He is, but he adores the Red Queen. He knew her when she was young. Can't ignore anything she says or orders," William said simply.

Who is this Red Queen? Sybil shrugged and sniffed the green liquid. It had a funny smell to it.

"Come on!" Gwen goaded. "They're catching up!"

In one quick swallow, Sybil downed the nerdrink. It had a bizarre taste, like raspberry meringue, victoria sandwich, apples, tea, and what was probably roast chicken. It didn't taste bad, but it made her feel funny.

All of a sudden, she felt herself physically shrinking. The hand holding the nerdrink bottle shrank, her feet shrank, her head grew smaller, while all around her the two dogs and all of the plants in the garden grew larger.

"What's happening?" Sybil gasped. She didn't see how growing smaller was going to help her now. She felt utterly ridiculous as she diminished to about two feet tall. Her dress collapsed around her.

"Oh God, I'm naked," she cried. But as William took the dress in his mouth and began to bury it, Sybil found her undergarments had miraculously fabricated themselves into a suitable garment. At least, it wasn't showing anything that should be showing. Still, she was dressed only in her underwear, two feet tall, and she was being placed on Gwen's back.

"William, you hold the lot off! I'll get her to Junderdee lane," Gwen said. William whimpered a bit as he finished covering up the old dress.

"Hold on tight," Gwen told Sybil. Sybil grasped two handfuls of the red fur as Gwen bounded off, through the endless garden.

It wasn't hard to ride a dog, Sybil found. It was just like riding a horse, only without a saddle or stirrups, which was a bit difficult. Plus, she was only two feet tall, which was, in Sybil's opinion, a dreadful height to be at her age, but quite right a size to ride a dog. Her hair streamed out behind her as Gwen ran around huge toadstools and trees, leaping over curiously carved stones. It began to grow dark, but Sybil had to hope that Gwen knew where she was going.

"Where's Junderdee lane?" Sybil asked.

"Just beyond the garden," Gwen answered, never losing speed. "The queen's guards won't look there, they'll spend too much time searching in the garden. But once we get there you're on your own."

Sybil cringed. She was to be left all alone in this strange world? "Must I be left alone here? I've only just got here, and besides, I'm two feet tall! How am I supposed to get anywhere being that short?"

Gwen panted. "Just keep on the path and you'll be fine. If the Red Queen figures out I brought you here she'll decorate her coat with my fur," she shuddered.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Sybil asked. She felt her desperation growing as the plants began to grow more sparsely.

"You need to get to the White King's castle at Manigen Crims, across the Hytesbin river. William and I'll try to get back to you in the morning."

Five minutes later, they left the garden and Gwen stopped in front of a rough dirt path. She lay down to let Sybil slid off of her. Sybil landed in the grass, feeling a little dizzy from the ride. It had been fun, but the thrill of riding a dog bigger than her had been spoilt by the announcement that she was to be left all alone.

"I need to go," Gwen said. "Stay on the path and just keep walking that way. Stop when you get to the Hytesbin river."

"Thanks," Sybil said. "But can't you tell me what's going on? Why does the Red Queen want me?"

"I'm really not the dog to tell you that," Gwen admitted. "I don't really know the details. I'm just a dog. I do what Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes tell me."

Sybil sighed. Really, this dog resembled the human Gwen in so many ways. If Sybil closed her eyes she could imagine her friend standing next to her. It made her heart ache to think of home and her friends, all so far away. Here she was in a strange land, being told to do things and she had no understanding of why. She felt herself beginning to cry, but she pushed away the tears.

"It's gonna be alright," Gwen said. "We're all trying to keep you safe. You're our only hope, if you are the real Sybil."

"Huh?" Sybil started alive when she heard those words, but Gwen darted back into the garden. She was far away before Sybil could even open her mouth.

She felt her heart sink in her chest. Here she was, all alone again. Now she had to walk even more, to a place she'd never even heard of before. She was exhausted, but her stomach wasn't growling anymore. It must have been that nerdrink, Sybil thought, perhaps that's why I'm not so hungry right now. Still, she would have walked miles to have another bite of Mrs Patmore's food. The roast chicken and raspberry merengue she had tasted made her think of home. The rest of her family would be finishing up a delicious dinner right about now, or maybe they were out searching for her. Not that any one of them would think to look down the rabbit hole.

Sybil realized she missed them now, Mama and Papa, even Mary and Edith. Yes, she hated parties and corsets and surprise proposals, but it was indefinitely better than being left on a dirt path. She missed the real Gwen and hoped the maid wouldn't think that she had abandoned her. What would the real Gwen do if she didn't come back? What if there was another opportunity for her, one that would most certainly get Gwen a better job if she presented herself to the interview. Sybil was the only one who was helping Gwen achieve her dream, and she would not give up, even when Gwen saw the gloomier side of things.

I shouldn't give up now, not when she needs me, Sybil told herself. The real Gwen and the Gwen here.

"You're our only hope, if you are the real Sybil." Those were the last words dog-Gwen said to her before hurrying away. How am I anyone's hope, though?

All Sybil could do now was wonder and walk, so she trudged on, the path stretching far out in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character list to clear up confusion:
> 
> Moseley - white rabbit  
> Mr Carson - caterpillar  
> Daisy - dormouse  
> Various housemaids - talking flowers  
> William - yellow dog  
> Gwen - red dog  
> Mrs Hughes - caracal


End file.
